My son's girlfriend came to dinner tonight. Sorry, my son's ''friend'' came to dinner tonight. I made Enchiladas. They went down a treat. I put an extra large chili in the sauce. I did not remove the seeds. Nobody noticed. The Enchiladas were devoured. After dinner we sat around talking about The New Yorker and reading snippets of our favourite articles from the latest issue, out loud to eachother. It was fun. The ''friend'' reads out loud well (years of drama classes) and she has a sense of humour and she loved my Enchiladas. So 100 percent passed on all counts. When my younger son was doling out the Double Chocolate Brownie Ice Cream for dessert she had him spoon several mountains of the gunk before she said stop. She laughed at his disbelief. I like her. Her father writes poetry. It's fine. From where I sit right now, late in the evening, I am a little distracted. The dog is barking from his kennel because he can see me at my laptop even though I've pulled the blind down to the max. Music emanates from different corners of the house, it is difficult to concentrate. I met a woman this afternoon whose husband is battling cancer. He is only forty eight years old. His chemo ends on Christmas Eve. We hugged and she held back the tears and here I am in my stupid world and all I'm thinking about is how the hell did this house get to be so full of music? Mary P.